The Great West Detective Agency by Jackson Lowry Read Free Book Online Page B

had not steered him wrong. Conklin had something to do with Tovarich’s theft and stood at the front of the line as being the thief. Only he was now the dead thief. Did the men who had killed him know where the dog was, or was he now in a race to find the pup?
    It began to look as if a hundred dollars wasn’t adequate for the job. He needed to find out more from Amanda. But after he paid off his debt. Though the way the day had gone, Carmela might not even talk to him, much less be amenable to politely greeting Little Otto.

5

    A fter a bath and shave, and a few hours sleep, Lucas Stanton felt like whipping his weight in wildcats. Or at least telling whoever would listen that he could. With the freshly cleaned and repaired coat once more gracing his broad shoulders, he strolled down Colfax warily looking for the men who had killed Amos Conklin. It came as no little relief that they had hightailed it after stabbing the man. To his disgust he saw that Conklin’s body still lay where he had been killed. Both coat and vest were gone, as were his shoes. The city scavengers were as efficient as any buzzards circling above the plains waiting for something to die.
    He went to a pair of policemen leaning against a lamppost, politely coughed to get their attention away from a ribald joke one was telling the other, and then pointed.
    â€œWhat’s botherin’ you?” The short one closest to Lucas had pupils the size of pinpricks from chasing the dragon. The cloying odor of opium hung about his heavy wool uniform, as if his behavior and appearance were not enough to alert Lucas to the addiction. “Spit it out. Me and my partner ain’t got all day.”
    â€œThe man in the alley appears to be somewhat deceased,” Lucas said. He held out his hands, palms toward the police. “I had nothing to do with it. I am simply pointing out that a corpse is unsightly along such a major street as this.”
    â€œNobody else’s complainin’. Why are you? You have somethin’ to do with the killin’?”
    The second officer was as large as his partner was small. He peered down at Lucas, tapping a slung shot against his left palm with meaty whacks. From the callus there, he habitually did this. If he intended to bully whomever he faced, he succeeded wildly. Lucas was sorry he had ever mentioned the body.
    â€œThe two men running down the alley in the other direction must have alerted the others to the body by now,” Lucas said, edging away. As he backed off, he described the man with the knife, hoping this would deflect interest from him and direct it where it belonged.
    â€œMr. Dunbar’s boys, you saw ’em snuff somebody?” The short one looked around as if the devils from hell were galloping down on him and he couldn’t find a proper hiding place.
    â€œKeep up the good work, men. I’ll let Mr. Dunbar know you’re doing a fine job.” Lucas slapped the opium fiend on the shoulder, then thrust out his hand to shake with the larger copper. For a moment, the man couldn’t decide what to do and finally tucked his slung shot under his left arm and shook. His hand engulfed Lucas’s but was curiously feeble.
    â€œYou tell Mr. Dunbar we’re on our toes. We’ll get that body all hid so nobody’ll ever find it.”
    Lucas touched the brim of his bowler and strode off. He had done what he could for Conklin and, by doing so, had found yet another thread to follow. To the north in the Capitol Hill section lived the bluest of the blue bloods. A cute little puppy dog might be found there, though why a man as powerful as Jubal Dunbar would send out his thugs to kill for it posed something of a problem begging for an answer.
    He dickered a few minutes with a pretty young girl selling apples, more to enjoy her company than for the apple itself or the extra nickel it cost him. When another customer came by, he paid and buffed off the red skin. He bit